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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257603">one of us will die inside these arms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskyisgay/pseuds/theskyisgay'>theskyisgay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Porn, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Gunkink, Gunplay, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, S5 spoilers, Sort of exhibitionism, detailed warnings in notes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:21:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskyisgay/pseuds/theskyisgay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the world, in the middle of nowhere, all that matters is the feeling of Daisy underneath her, her heartbeat in Basira's ear, the only music she's ever loved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>one of us will die inside these arms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>SO some detailed warnings: it's porn w/o plot and it is gunplay and the negotiation is not shown but it's implied that they've talked about it. Not particularly s5 spoiler-y or exhibitionist but they do fuck in the middle of the forest in the Hunt domain. </p><p>it does get pretty emotional bc i love them.</p><p>if u think i missed anything or want anything else to be mentioned/tagged pls let me know!! ty!!!!!!<br/>title from naked as we come by iron and wine. </p><p>unbetaed. any mistakes are my own.</p><p>ALSO THANK U TO PELL FOR THE IDEA</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Basira doesn’t know how this started, her memory tears in glass-edged fragments at the edges of her mind when she tries to think about the Institute and the day the world ended. All she remembers, more clearly than her own name is Daisy asking Basira to kill her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know how much time has passed, since then, how much time they’ve been in this— </span>
  <em>
    <span>place, </span>
  </em>
  <span>this forest, that stretched and stretches, loops around her body and takes up every crevice of her memory until the only thing that she recognises is the smell of blood— new as daybreak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> know how long it has been since she’s had Daisy on her knees before her, hands behind her back, eyes sharper than any blade, mouth twisting upwards </span>
  <em>
    <span>just so, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it hasn’t been long enough, not nearly as long as she’d like and it aches something fierce down to her very bones </span>
  <em>
    <span>that they could have been doing this for so long, that they should have been doing this for so long, for all the time they’ve been in this place that has no end. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But they don’t have an end either, as far as she knows, they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> at survival, at hanging by the skin of their teeth through a fucking apocalypse and then swallowing it whole. She’s laughed in the face of it, the End of the World, laughed until it scraped her throat raw and kissed Daisy with bloody-teeth. It was  holier than it had a right to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, she watches, she hopes, in the part of her that still can hope, that she’s the only one who’s watching Daisy right now. It rises inside her, higher than a tide, blistering, burning jealousy from the bottom of her gut at the thought that someone else could see Daisy like this: on her knees, hands clasped behind her back. She’d be the picture of surrender, of resignation if it wasn’t for the kindling in her eyes, the upward twist of her lips. And Basira knows Daisy enough to know that it takes more than the end of everything to make Daisy surrender. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She says, “head down, Daisy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy tilts it further up just so that the moonlight catches on her teeth, they glint like age-old silver and something catches at Basira’s undead heart, knocks her close to breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy says, “make me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira steps closer, the gun a familiar weight in her hand, it’s not loaded, she knows Daisy wishes it was, but Basira doesn’t trust either of them enough with a loaded gun while doing this, the memory of Daisy’s words </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill me</span>
  </em>
  <span> still clear in her brain, in whatever is left of her heart and she knows she might have to one day, but she’d be damned if she lets it happen a second sooner than necessary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, she doesn’t load it and pretends Daisy doesn’t mind, pretends that they could do this for as long as eternity, pretends, pretends, pretends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t have to pretend that Daisy’s breath catches in her throat when she brings the gun up and rests it beneath Daisy’s chin. She tilts it up, up, up, until she knows Daisy’s neck is craning as much as it possibly can. Daisy’s eyes are lit up like a sky full of fireworks, lips still twisted up and her tongue pokes out to lick at her lips and the sight of it makes needle-sharp pin-pricks of desire shoot up her spine, faster than lightning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bends down and kisses Daisy, the world collapsing on itself and beginning again at the pace where their lips touch. It’s never gentle— kissing Daisy, it wasn’t before the world ended and it’s not now. Its teeth and tongue, and everything she never said to Daisy, everything Daisy never said to her, it’s all the moments they spent away from each other, it’s the beckoning of disaster. Every time she kisses Daisy, the world ends all over again and she tastes it on Daisy’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bites, hard, on Daisy’s lower lip and tastes the blood on her own, swallows Daisy’s sounds. She drags her lips across Daisy’s neck, bites and watches as the skin turns red under her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s not fucking around.” Daisy says, and Basira hears the smirk in it, and it goes straight between her legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She growls, low in her throat and it isn’t gentle, when she pushes Daisy on her back. Daisy doesn’t seem surprised and it lights something on fire inside Basira, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>well </span>
  </em>
  <span>Daisy can know her sometimes, how easily she slips under Basira’s skin, flits around her life until she’s the only thing she can think about. She thinks, Daisy is the only thing she knows now, the only thing that isn’t surprising in this world that ends everyday, in this world that isn’t theirs anymore, that, perhaps, never was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushes Daisy’s legs apart, taking off her trousers and underwear, her caging around Basira’s own. The ground is unrelenting beneath them, the trees still. In the woven strings of unsilence that surrounds them, she can only hear the sound of Daisy’s breathing and the beating of her own goddamn heart in her ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t afford to let down their guard, she knows, and she also knows that Daisy can never really let down her guard, years of blood and violence have taught her that. In this place, nothing is ever sure, nothing can be trusted. She trusts Daisy, she knows that perhaps, she shouldn’t. But she doesn’t quite know how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>if she can’t trust Daisy, the compass of her bones pointing towards Daisy no matter where they are, no matter if it’s the end of the world or the beginning or somewhere in between. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gets a hand on the inside of Daisy’s thigh, watches the hair on her skin rise with her touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take off your shirt, I wanna see you.” She says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Daisy says, she’s risen on her elbows, her hair dark in the spindly moonlight as it falls over her eyes, teeth sharp and all Basira wants to do is make a home for herself inside Daisy’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to see you, Daisy. I already said that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy tilts her head sideways, lips shaping themselves into a smirk that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>close to what it used to be, before. Before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not good enough for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira growls, low in her throat and it doesn’t take her more than a second to cover the length of Daisy’s body with her own and pin her wrists over her head. She feels the hitch in Daisy’s breath from where they’re connected, their chests heaving together to the tune of whatever melody seems to be making the sky light up in thunder. Daisy grins, bright, sharp and Basira </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to kiss her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gathers both of Daisy’s wrists in one of her hands, gets the other one under Daisy’s shirt. The feel of Daisy’s skin on her own makes her spine light up like quicksilver, desire shooting straight between her legs and she drags her mouth to Daisy’s neck, where it’s already bloomed purple and red from her own mouth and Daisy’s blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembers, as if from outside her body that there is a knife in her pocket and she gets it out, drags it along the length of Daisy’s shirt, it splits open within a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course, go on, wouldn’t you, we have a whole wardrobe of clothes at our disposal don’t we.” Says Daisy and Basira presses the tip of her knife to the skin of Daisy’s stomach </span>
  <em>
    <span>just so </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Daisy sucks in a sharp breath and her eyes flutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not playing, Tonner.” Basira says and lets the knife drop to her side and drags her hand along the outside of Daisy’s thigh, the skin hot under her touch. They haven’t talked about it— the knife. They haven’t talked about the touches, or the kisses they share when they’re not fucking in the middle of this forest. They haven’t talked about what any of it means. Basira doesn’t know if they should, all she knows is that she would let the apocalypse happen a thousand times over if it meant that it would never touch Daisy. All she knows is that Daisy tastes like the wind and her touch upon her skin feels like a cleansing. All she knows is that she doesn’t think she could kill Daisy, not even if Daisy pushed a knife to her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets her nails dig in, just slightly into Daisy’s thigh as she drags her hand to where Daisy’s wet. Daisy lets out a sound, as if punched out from the very bottom of her gut and it almost knocks Basira over, the sheer desire in it. She les Daisy;s wrists go, says </span>
  <em>
    <span>behave, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and kisses the smirk from Daisy’s mouth. She gets both her hands under Daisy’s thighs and places them on her shoulders, kisses the inside of Daisy;s thigh and watches as the bruises blossom in the shape of her mouth, a claiming, perhaps, if she still has a right to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basira, get on with it.” Daisy gasps and Basira bites down particularly viciously at a spot on the inside of Daisy’s thigh before getting her mouth on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>sound </span>
  </em>
  <span>Daisy lets out, as if all the breath has been knocked from her lungs, relief interspersed with something Basira can’t quite parse, something that goes straight to the bottom of her undead heart and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sticks, </span>
  </em>
  <span>stubborn as sunrise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leans forward on her knees, completely atop Daisy and runs her thumb along Daisy’s bottom lip. Daisy’s mouth opens and Basira pushes two fingers inside. Daisy’s tongue across all her callouses, across fingers that have never been gentle, that have only ever been used for destruction, being trusted enough by Daisy to have them in her mouth, inside her, over her. It make something constrict around her lungs, makes something unspoken rise up inside her, new as this world, old as the previous one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she thinks they’re wet enough, she drags her fingers, down, down, down, and gets one inside Daisy. Daisy gasps, surprise and relief evident in it and Basira catches the sound with her own mouth and keeps it guarded between her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She adds one more finger inside Daisy, her legs still over Basira’s shoulders as Basira bends down to lick at the corner of her mouth, her neck. She’s almost bent halfway, all for Basira, her hands still clenched together over her head and if Basira wasn’t already willing to lay her life down at Daisy’s feet, this would have done it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is light in Daisy’s eyes, they aren’t hazy, as they might have been, in another world in this haze of pleasure and pain. Her eyes are sharp, focussed on Basira but Basira knows she’s also keeping track. There is nothing in this place that is entirely safe but Basira can be naive enough, sometimes, when she wills herself to be, to feel safe like this: fingers inside Daisy, mouth on her neck. </span>
</p><p><span>“Can you take another one?” She asks, looks right at Daisy’s mouth, which is open, slightly, and red and she has to take a breath, deep, in order to not say something entirely unbecoming, entirely unwelcome,</span> <span>like, </span><em><span>I love you, I would die for you, I would kill for you, I am so selfish I don’t think I can do what you asked of me, I love you. </span></em></p><p>
  <span>Daisy grins, knife-bright and glass-sharp, all edges, all teeth, all </span>
  <em>
    <span>wolf, </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I can take whatever you give me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira takes </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>for what it is— a threat, a promise and swallows it out of Daisy’s mouth as she adds another finger. Daisy’s thighs clench around her head and it’s a harder fit, three fingers, but Daisy’s wet enough and she’s panting. Basira drags her mouth down to latch at Daisy’s breast and Daisy gasps, back arching up, uo, uo, and Basira rests her hand on Daisy’s heart, keeps her in place, feels her heartbeat through her own palm travel up to her chest, her own heart beating in tune to Daisy’s, now, forever, it doesn’t matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaves marks, she always does, the skin around Daisy’s nipple turning red under her teeth as she keeps moving her fingers inside Daisy. She gets her mouth on Daisy’s other nipple and Daisy’s back arches again, this time Basira doesn’t push down, just keeps her hand on Daisy’s chest, feels her heartbeat thrumming inside her skull— the only music she needs, the only thing keeping her alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy writhes, Basira knows how hard it is for her to keep her hands still— but she does it anyway. When BAsira looks up, Daisy’s fingers have intertwined and she’s flushed— red from her neck to her chest, her lips parted around Basira’s name and Basira would be damned if she didn’t catch it for her own. There are few times her own name has sounded like something to be treasured— this is one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drags her mouth lower, across the planes of Daisy’s stomach, she bites, hard wherever she can but doesn’t break skin, not yet. She watches Daisy’s skin bloom purple under her mouth and commits the image to the backs of her eyelids, to replay again and again when she has a gun in her hand and battle-sounds in her veins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira gets her mouth on Daisy’s thigh, places a kiss above her knee— an impulsive moment of gentleness, one she can’t quite bring herself to regret, not even when she feels Daisy’s fingers in her hair just for a second and her eyes, softer than she’s ever seen, on her, before Daisy gets her hand over her head again and Basira feels the stirring of something velvet-soft in the bottom of her gut, something she’s used to pushing down, around Daisy, something that has been hard to do since the past few months, years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bites Daisy’s thigh, a little harsher than necessary, perhaps, and relishes in the laugh Daisy lets escape— half breath, half untarnished longing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira gets her mouth on Daisy’s clit and Daisy gasps, moans Basira’s name, as Basira sucks around her clit, gently, gently and then drags her tongue down to where her fingers still move inside Daisy, unrelenting. Distantly, she thinks her wrist hurts, and she welcomes the hurt with a beat of her heart to the sound of Daisy’s breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy’s moaning, loud and Basira can see her hands straining and it makes her chest swell up with something light and loud, all for Daisy, only ever for Daisy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basira,” Daisy gasps, “I can take another. I can take your whole hand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desire, sweet as the first flowers of spring, sweeps through her gut, memorable as a knife to the heart, and she has to will her voice to steady, has to will her voice to not waver around broken litanies of whatever love she has to give Daisy, “I decide what you take, Daisy,” she says and fears there’s too much sweetness in it, with the way Daisy’s eyes focus sharply on her, something close to </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing</span>
  </em>
  <span> in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she doesn’t say anything, simply closes her eyes for a second, lips curving in a smirk, “then give me more, Basira. I’ve never known </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hold back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>goes straight to her gut, clean as a machete, and she adds another finger, slow, slow, she wishes she could be vicious in the way Daisy would like, but she’s always been softer when it came to Daisy, always been more forgiving and there’s nothing to it now, in the middle of the End, nothing to do about it except take what Daisy gives her. She’s sat on her knees, Daisy’s thighs still over her shoulders and watches the movement of her own hand inside Daisy, feels the golden thread of desire travel all along her spine. She couldn’t look away if she wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy’s mouth falls open when she moves her fingers, four now, just slightly, when she pulls them back just so before pushing them inside again, Daisy’s lips form her name again and it’s almost as if there’s something in the air around them, that makes her lean forward over Daisy and swallow her name for her mouth, almost as if the earth rumbles to the sound of Daisy’s broken gasps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” she whispers, before she can stop herself, “it’s alright, you’re alright,” right into Daisy’s willing mouth, no evidence of those words anywhere else and this way, she can pretend that she never said them. The existence of them beginning and ending between her and Daisy’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers keep moving, and she watches as Daisy struggles to keep her own hands locked above her head, it’s endearing in the way it makes Basira want to rip her own  heart out and place it on Daisy’s feet— an offering, or a plea for forgiveness, she doesn’t quite know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Daisy keeps gasping out half-broken pleas and words that sound like her name that it’s so fucking easy to forget about everything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take it, Basira.” Daisy says, all the ferocity she’s ever had in those words, and her hands move to entangle in Basira’s hair and she pulls her down to kiss her, all teeth and fire— no semblance of anything close to gentleness. Basira’s grateful for it, in the part of her that only beats for Daisy, she’s grateful for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re the one calling the shots here, Tonner.” She murmurs into Daisy’s mouth, shifts Daisy’s legs so they wrap around her waist instead of hanging over her shoulders. She knows how much Daisy can take, how long she can stay in one place and endure, she also knows that she would die before she became something Daisy had to endure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kisses Daisy again, for good luck and moves to sit back on her knees, Daisy’s legs on the ground. The gun is lying next to them, glinting like age old silver in the spindly moonlight and there’s something in the way that Daisy looks at it, then at Basira’s hands that makes her undead heart beat humming-bird fast in the hollow of her chest, makes her palms slightly sweat. She thinks Daisy knows that, with the way her eyes flit to Basira’s lips, and her hands come to rest on Basira’s waist, hesitant in their need to be gentle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs the gun before it gets </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much, too tender, something she’s gotten used to forgetting, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she grabs the gun, her other hand still inside of Daisy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about your hands, by the way.” She says, lips tilting into a smirk and there’s laughter in Daisy’s eyes, however splintered it might be, it’s still something Basira can recognise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me,” says Daisy, and it’s far more earnest than it has a right to be. Basira swallows around the lump in her throat, looks away for just a second before she looks back at Daisy— splayed out under her, something still unbroken in her eyes, after all these years, and Basira thinks, desperately, angrily </span>
  <em>
    <span>how dare anyone not love her?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” she says, quietly, in the dead of the night, “forgive you, that is. You don’t need to ask me for that.” It’s more than she should have said, she thinks, but Daisy’s eyes are bright, and her mouth still opens for Basira when she leans down to kiss her and so, Basira can’t bring herself to regret it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bites Daisy’s neck again for good measure before dragging the gun across Daisy’s stomach, and softly, over Daisy’s bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hands over your head,” Basira murmurs, “you can bring them down when it’s inside you, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy nods, small and barely there but Basira catches it anyway. Daisy’s mouth falls open when Basira gently nudges at her lips with the gun and she pushes it inside, slowly, carefully, more careful than she’s ever been, perhaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She re-situates herself so she’s seated on Daisy’s bare thighs and gets a hand under Daisy’s head, tilts it just so while she continues to push the gun in, Daisy’s lips wide around it, her eyes focussed on Basira with an intensity that could end the world all over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy’s tongue darts around the gun and desire lights up Basira’s entire body, like a kindling and if she burns for Daisy, well, that would be worth it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes the gun out and Daisy lets out a sound, just slightly strangled and Basira wonders how she went so long without tasting Daisy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drags the gun across Daisy’s neck, moves herself so she’s on her knees caged by Daisy’s thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurry,” Daisy says, and there’s impatience in it, impatience that makes Basira’s own heart swell up with something she doesn’t think she’s ever known before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patience,” she says, and slaps Daisy’s thigh just enough for it to bloom a sunset pink in the shape of her palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy lets out a laugh, “what do you know of patience?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira bites the place she slapped and Daisy moans, loud and unafraid, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Basira, please. Don’t make me wait any longer for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is no one to deny Daisy, so she doesn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She puts the gun in her own mouth, lets her tongue run over all of its ridges, over all the places Daisy’s mouth had been, notices the way Daisy rises up on her elbows to watch. Something close to anticipation stirs in the bottom of her gut, something more tender than desire, she thinks she’d blush, if she still had that in her, with the way Daisy’s eyes seem fixed onto her as if by some spell, as if by forces so great they survived this Apocalypse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They did, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks, her mind in a frenzy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daisy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she survived it, for Daisy, with Daisy. What else is there? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes the gun halfway out, then slowly lowers it back inside her mouth, her cheeks hollow around it, her skin waking up under Daisy’s attention. Daisy’s breathing fast, she thinks hers matches Daisy’s and it makes something like hope bloom like a dandelion inside her chest, no place for something so fragile as hope in her iron-hard chest, but dandelions persist, she knows, dandelions endure, and she knows endurance down to her guts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes the gun out, deems it wet enough for Daisy, and lowers it down, down, down. Daisy’s hands automatically go to rest above the top of her head. She drags the gun over Daisy’s clit and watches her breath hitch in her throat, lips stretching around a smirk, as if hesitant, and it makes something sharp and poignant stick to whatever’s left of her heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me to stop,” she says, “if.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t.” Daisy replies, iron-strong. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Basira thinks and doesn’t say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She starts slow, watches the movement of her own hand as she pushes the gun inside, slowly, slowly. Daisy gasps, loud, says </span>
  <em>
    <span>Basira</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Basira, Basira, </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a way that seems as if it’s being punched out of her. Basira watches her hands clench around each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daisy,” she says, “Daisy, talk to me.” She thinks she sounds more broken than Daisy, in this moment, “Daisy. Please. Talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy rises back on her elbows, her chest rising up, up, up, then down, the movement, something Basira is more familiar with than the sound of her own heartbeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basira,” she says, and it sounds strangled somehow, “keep going. I won’t beg. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira pushes it inside just slightly more and Daisy moans, the sound like the first bird call of spring, going right to her heart, cleaner than a machete and Daisy falls back down, her hands tight around the grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rises on her knees and bends over Daisy’s body, catches her lips with hers, swallows all of Daisy’s sounds to hoard like gold, for whenever it all comes crashing down on them, because of them, she’ll never </span>
  <em>
    <span>forget </span>
  </em>
  <span>this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushes it inside until her hand on the revolver collides with Daisy’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy makes a sound as if in grief and says, “I can take it, Basira. The revolver. I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira finds herself laughing, “no,” she says, “I won’t hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy laughs then, slightly hoarse and always unafraid in her laughter, “it’s a little too late for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Basira pushes the gun out and back in, slightly more forcefully than before and Daisy gasps, her hands come to entangle themselves in Basira’s hair and pull, in a way that drags a moan out of her and she sees Daisy’s smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She buries her face in Daisy’s neck, kisses the junction of her neck and shoulder and repeats the movement of her hand, once twice, until Daisy’s pulling at her hair with all the ferocity she’s always had and Basira gasps gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come.” she says, into Daisy’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy pulls at her hair, hard enough to bring her face in front of hers, “why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira grins, “because I’m telling you too.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy slots their mouth together, all fire and nothing else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira pulls away and keeps looking at Daisy’s eyes as she moves down the length of her body. She pulls the gun out and Daisy lets out a bereaved sound and looks down at Basira, mouth set in a line that, on a good day, Basira would call angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basira—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” Basira says and replaces the gun with two of her fingers, gets her mouth on Daisy’s clit. Daisy’s hands tighten in her hair, her legs come to rest on Basira’s shoulders, clenching around Basira’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to come on my fingers,” she says, pressing a kiss onto the inside of Daisy’s thigh and Daisy laughs. Basira feels it rumble through the earth, through her own body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I was the wolf.” Daisy says, something like longing in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—” Basira starts, then falters, no words enough to encompass whatever it is between them, she isn’t sure such words exist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Daisy says and Basira adds another finger and gets her mouth on Daisy again. She drags her mouth from Daisy’s clit to where her fingers are moving inside her, the place where they’re connected seeming to be the only thing keeping her tethered to this world, her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sucks around Daisy’s clit, gentle, gentle, and moves her hand faster. Daisy moans her name without stopping, the syllables tangling in Basira’s hair, her thighs clenching tighter around Basira’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long, then, for Daisy to come, with Basira’s fingers inside her, mouth on her clit. Her thighs shaking with the wind of an earthquake around Basira’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Basira doesn’t realise it, doesn’t comprehend time as she’s suddenly on her back, Daisy’s thighs on either side of her waist, her lips on Basira;s neck, hands traveling down, down, down, opening her trousers, Daisy’s voice a melody she’d recognise at the brink of death.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s your turn, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Daisy murmurs into her neck, her fingers deft and practiced inside her and then it doesnt’ take long until she’s coming apart, hands gripping Daisy’s shoulder, voice stuck in her throat but she thinks Daisy knows, anyway, all the words that remain lodged in her throat, like she’s a coward for not getting them out. For once in her life, she thinks she might be one. </span>
</p><p>___</p><p>
  <span>Aft</span>
  <span>er, they lay on the floor, breaths coming together in the air above them, hands almost touching between their bodies. It’s not the first time they’ve done this here, it won’t be the last. If there was any deity left to whom Basira could pray to, she’d pray for this time to not be the last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy says, “I liked that. I- thank you,” her voice something Basira hasn’t heard before, skirting some hill of tenderness she isn’t sure either of them could climb.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Basira things, heart beating something fierce inside her ears and it’s not new, loving Daisy, it’s simple, it’s something that has sat on the inside of her wrist and it beats along with her heart but the words don’t fit inside her mouth, her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was good for me too,” she says, quickly, softly, the words something strange in her mouth, like ash, like scorched earth. She wonders, distantly, if it means something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy turns to look at her and there’s fire in her eyes, as it always is and there’s also grief that Basira has shared with her, grief she knows down to the bottom of her bones. </span>
  <span>Daisy takes her hand, lifts it up and presses her lips to Basira’s knuckles. Basira doesn’t know if it’s a symbol of resignation or a petition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything I’ve done,” Basira says, words getting ahead of her, “it’s all for you, Daisy. I’d do it all over again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I asked you to?” Says Daisy, her fingers tight on Basira’s own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if you didn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy laughs, low and just slightly hoarse, “I don’t know what to do with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira nods, “neither do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy kisses her then, and when Basira tastes salt, she doesn’t say anything, whether it’s sweat or tears, it doesn’t quite matter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is all she’s got, now, for the rest of eternity or what the fuck that’s coming. The only thing she can do is guard it with her own hands, even if they tremble.</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if u want me to tag anything else PLS let me know!!! thank u for reading!! leave a comment or kudos if u feel like it!!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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